First trip into the office today sees the debris of unfinished work taunting me from various locations of the desk and floor. By and large, matters are under control. Rather than file nearly completed tasks I take pleasure in waiting until they really are finished before stashing them away.

My heart rate therefore calms as I realise that there are no real panics to deal with. I have some business events and weddings to organise which sees me tapping away at the computer in between calling various suppliers and customers. Orderliness is shortlived. Over the top of my computer screen I spot a furry creature emerging from the shrubbery just outside the office window.

Ever since planting the wildflower garden, which borders the shrubbery, I have been on rabbit watch. The seed company identified rabbit attacks as the main threat to the flowers reaching maturity. To counter this I bought an air rifle.

Throughout last season the rifle was regularly used. The rabbit population was not diminished. However, the pellets discharging did succeed in sending the hungry monsters sprinting off away from the flowers and across the fields.

For the last couple of months I have not seen any rabbits in the wildflower garden but today a very confident adult is staring contemptuously at me while munching on some seed heads.

Picking up my air rifle and the tin of pellets I head off to the utility room from where I can get a clear view of the wildflower meadow. Slowly I open the door. Unbelievably this is the precise moment that the breadmaker, sat on the counterside in the utility room, breaks into its next kneading cycle.

The rabbit hears the noise and turns towards the sound but does not bolt. Waiting a little longer for it to get accustomed to the machine noises I then slowly raise the rifle and ease it around until I have the rabbit in the sight.

At first I suspect the usual outcome after squeezing the trigger but then I realise that the rabbit has not completely disappeared. It has moved but not far. The next second it collapses and dies.

I am in shock. I am used to taking pigs to the abbatoir and preparing them afterwards but the act of killing changes the dynamic and I am confused about how I feel about what I have done.

My heart thumping I walk to the rabbit and bring it into the kitchen. Once I gutted and skinned a hare that someone else had shot but this will be the first time that I have prepared a kill of my own.

After consulting Seymour and Fearnley-Whittingstall I set about my task. Although very nervous at first I become more relaxed as the rabbit is tranformed from creature into meat. I am slow but in about 20 minutes I have a skinned and cleaned rabbit on the counter with its heart, liver and kidneys in a bowl nearby.